


overflow for empty

by TheSpaceCoyote



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Caretaker Armitage Hux, Dirty Boy Kylo Ren, Feelings, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Injuries, Scents & Smells, Wound Cleaning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-17
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2020-01-15 15:44:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18502033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSpaceCoyote/pseuds/TheSpaceCoyote
Summary: Ren comes to Hux's quarters, filthy and covered in injuries. Hux doesn't understand why he didn't just go to the medbay if he needed attention, but now that Ren'shere,what's an exasperated general to do?





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**Author's Note:**

> Some more shenanigans with dirty Kylo. This isn't a sequel to the fic I posted yesterday, just playing with the same idea. Enjoy!

If you asked Hux, it was common sense to go to the medbay when one was injured. Though he disliked the invasive questions of the medics and their ceaseless prodding and palpating as much as anyone else did, he put up with it when he had to, with little need for fuss or fanfare.

Of course, someone like Kylo Ren doesn’t ever follow common sense. So maybe Hux shouldn’t be surprised that a filthy, bloodstained form of his co-commander greeted him when he answered the chime on his quarters’ door later into the cycle. But that didn’t stop him from letting out an embarrassing yelp when the beast of a man practically fell into his arms and knocked him to the floor.

Thankfully no one else was around in the halls nor present in his quarters. And Ren seemed more focused on staying up on his trembling legs than paying much attention to Hux, so his pride was safe for the time being. His _spine_ , however, was a different matter, and he had to quickly drag the shaky Ren away from the door to a place where he could probably collapse.

And, being loathe to ruin the crisp blue of his couch with his filthy, injured body yet not so cruel as to dump Ren on the floor, Hux supported him, around slung around his thin shoulders, until they got to the refresher—at which point he carefully crouched and let Ren slide off him onto the tile, his back leaned up against the wall.

Now, Hux is trying to determine what to do next. Part of him is tempted to call the medbay and have them send for Ren, drag his raggedy carcass from his quarters and leave him in peace. After all, it’s not Hux'sbusiness to play nursemaid and tend to Ren’s foolishness, to validate whatever reasons he might have in coming to him.

“What have you done to yourself this time?” Hux hisses as he gets on his knees besides Ren, reaching out and brushing a bit of hair away from his face, only to find it stuck to his temple. Hux grimaces, retracting his hand. Ren couldn’t have brushed himself off a bit, or changed his clothing, before shambling over to his quarters?

 _He always has to do everything for him_.

“Perhaps you’ll be a little less cagey once you’re clean,” Hux muses, more to himself than Ren as he moves back to the tub, closing the drain and starting up the water. He adjusts the dial, holding his hand under the splashing faucet as he seeks the proper temperature. He doesn’t want to scald Ren, but the water needs to be warm enough to properly loosen the soil from where it’s plastered against his skin.

Hux scarcely uses the tub in his refresher—he has no real need for it, preferring the efficiency of a shower, but the quarters of all superior officers come equipped with them. He’s a bit thankful for it now, because it would be awkward to wash Ren any other way, both physically and in terms of _taste_.

Hux leaves the faucet to run as he rises to paw through the medicine cabinet, choosing his least beloved shampoos and soaps. He supposes the scent doesn’t matter much to Ren. Does getting cleaned even matter to Ren? Hux has absolutely no idea what’s going on in his head right now. He doesn’t wish this often, but he supposes it’d be nice to have a touch of Ren’s mystical powers, just to get a better grasp on annoying situations like this.

Hux sets up the array of bathing products neatly on the edge of the tub, before turning his attention back to Ren. He hasn’t moved much, still looking at his tattered gloves in his lap, expression impassive. His eyelids droop, almost like he’s about to sleep, but he tilts his head up when Hux kneels back at his side. Dark, almost lost eyes briefly survey his face, before casting back down again. It’s almost like he’s drifting, barely attached to his own body.

Hux hopes the warm water will bring Ren back to his senses, but just as he moves to help him up, he realizes an issue he hadn’t thought of, and swallows.

 _Oh hells._ He didn’t consider that he’ll have to _strip_ Ren, at least partially, before he puts him into the bath. Suddenly he’s regretting this decision a bit, but after a moment of calming breaths tries his best to push past his hang-up. Ren is just a _man_ , after all, like Hux is. He can’t have anything that he hasn’t seen before.

“Up. I need you on the edge of the bathtub.” Hux says, patting him on the shoulder before sliding one hand beneath his arm and lifting up. Ren grunts as he rises with the aid of both the general and the wall, keeps his legs bent at the knee as if he’s in pain, before shuffling the scant distance and nearly collapsing on the rim. Hux places a hand on his waist, steadying him lest Ren tumble backwards into the water or crack his head against the wall. Ren’s hands grasp tightly against the edge of the tub, holding himself still to the best of his ability. Hux pats his hip.

“Well then. Let’s get on with it.” He unwinds the tattered cowl and pulls it over Ren’s head, letting it fall to the floor with a wrinkle of his nose. It’s certainly the filthiest part of his outfit, and Hux wishes he could have it incinerated before it makes the whole refresher reek. Ren really could use a new wardrobe. Switch out the black rags every once and awhile. Maybe even for a crisp, well-made uniform of the Order. Wouldn’t that be nicer?

Hux pulls the gloves off of Ren’s hand, grimacing at how tightly they cling to his sweaty skin. These too, smell terribly, and he tosses them into the pile with the cowl. Hux holds his breath and presses his lips tightly together as his fingers fiddle with the collar of Ren’s tunic, peeling away the fastenings to reveal more of his throat, then his chest. He tries to keep his mind off sordid things as he unbuckles Ren’s belt and pulls the fabric away from his skin. It sticks in places which—while vile—provides a welcome distraction from the appealing sight of the other man’s body. He needs to focus, after all, and not linger on the bulky curves of Ren’s torso.

Hux is about to get started on his pants when Ren mumbles something and numbly knocks away his hands. Relieved, Hux stands up and turns away, leaving Ren to deal with everything below the belt, keeping an ear on the running water of the tub and only turning around once he hears a loud, messy splash.

Hux frowns at the fresh puddles on the refresher floor next to the discarded boots and pants, but at least Ren is sitting in the tub now, and he didn’t have to risk catching sight of his unmentionables. He kneels once more, unable not to note the way Ren’s large frame nearly fills the space and forces the water to rise almost at the edge.

Already the grime and blood on Ren’s body is starting to float off of his skin in little brown and maroon islands, moving with the ripple of the faucet’s flow. Hux eyes drift over him, trying to determine where to start first. There’s so much that needs to be done. He almost wants to start with Ren’s face, but he’s not sure he can meet his eyes again just yet.

Hux sighs, rolling up the sleeves of the casual shirt he occasionally wears about his quarters. He doesn’t want it getting soaked in water and whatever filth might wash from Ren’s body.

He cranks off the water after wetting a hand towel in the warm stream, rubbing it with a mild soap before bringing it first to Ren’s shoulder, the one closest to him. He starts moving the cloth against his skin, scrubbing away the stubborn bits of dirt and stars-knows-what clung to his body and leaving a pleasing, if faint scent of lavender in its wake. Hux is satisfied to find the grime comes off rather easily. Perhaps this will take less time than he feared.

Hux’s eyelids lower as he next brushes the towel over Ren’s neck, remembering all the _incidents_ in which he’s tossed about his officers like dolls, threatened to snap their spines and tear their breath from them, in blatant disregard of usual disciplinary protocol. Hux briefly wonders if he could move quick enough to cinch his hands around his neck and throttle Ren before his abnormal power crushed him against the wall of the refresher. But he banishes the thought to the back of his mind, instead rubbing away the blotches of red on Ren’s throat, leaving pale, unmarked skin below. Not his own blood, then.

Once Ren’s shoulders, neck, and collar are clean, Hux dips his hand beneath the surface to scrub his chest and the upper half of his abdomen. His muscles twitch instinctively as Hux rubs over them with the cloth, as if he’s grown extra sensitive in the water. The general tries to ignore it and keep his composure, even as he explores the contours of Ren’s body for the first time.

Hux always knew his co-commander was well-built, that much was obvious even from beneath the thick tunic and shabby robes of his usual attire. Though he nearly reaches Ren’s height, he could never dream to match his breadth, and—while Hux would never admit it to anyone—he’s entertained himself with fantasies about the man’s body frequently. And now he finally gets the chance to run his hands over it, albeit not in the exact manner he desired. But would he have ever gotten that chance otherwise?

The oddness of their current intimacy isn’t lost on Hux, as he rubs fresh soap into the cloth and moves to Ren’s back. It’s even harder not to notice the sharp, defined lines of his muscles here. Hux recalls all the moments he’s watched Ren in battle, either in person or via holo, and considers how they might flex in the thick of it all, and not in the relaxed aftermath he’s witnessing the the moment.

His fingers run over the scars of those battles now, and Hux wonders at the story behind each of them, no matter how mundane or extraordinary they might be. Some are fresher and pink, others have silvered with age. For such a young man, Ren is littered with them. Surely bacta would have cleared them right up, leaving Hux to think they may have been left to scar on purpose.

He doesn’t bother washing below Ren’s waist, partly because he can’t reach that far without soaking his shirt cuffs, but mostly out of fear of brushing up against something indecent. He’s not sure how either of them will react if _that_ happens, and he’s not all that eager to find out.

Thus, finally, Hux takes a quiet breath, and resolves to clean Ren’s face.

It’s easily the most dirtied place on his entire body, now contrasting even more noticeably with the relative cleanliness of his torso. There’s more blood here, as well, nearly caking the entire right side of Ren’s face. Some of it has dried and is already flaking off, but most gathers congealed on his skin in varying depths of red. Dirt and soot streak across his face above the blood, and Hux wonders how he’s received this much damage. Hadn’t he worn his helmet? Or had he lost it on the mission? Hux thinks to ask, but inquiring about Ren’s mysteries can be dangerous.

He runs the faucet briefly to dampen the towel before bringing it up to Ren’s face, rubbing his skin with a little more care then he had with the rest of his body. Even so, his expression twitches, eyes scrunched shut with some discomfort as Hux washes away the filth. He raises an eyebrow when he runs the cloth down Ren’s cheeks, revealing more of what lies beneath.

Is—is Ren blushing? Oh _please_ let that be the warmth of the bath affecting his usually pale, death-like skin. Hux doesn’t know what to think if it’s not.

He wipes away the blood crusted to Ren’s temple and the dirt stuck to his cheeks, easing his touch every time he winces or cringes. There’s a cut near his hairline and a blossoming bruise on his cheek, as well as a split on the right side of his lip, but apart from that Ren’s face has sustained little damaged. Hux feels oddly relieved at that as he gently dabs at the edges of his injuries, ensuring they’ll be clean enough for proper bacta application.

Lastly, he turns to Ren’s hair, the nest of locks still matted with dirt and sweat and the leftover blood from his facial wound. Hux dips his hand in a patch of clean water, cupping it in his palm and lifting it above his head head, before dripping it onto Ren’s hair. He repeats the action until the matted locks are properly wet, then reaches for the shampoo and squeezes it into his palm.

“Head back,” Hux instructs, even as he reaches for Ren’s chin and tips it himself anyway. He goes so readily, letting Hux manipulate his body as he cleans him. In fact, Ren hasn’t protested at all since he started this, apart from the occasional wince and groan as Hux brushes against his hurts.

It’s strange to consider that Ren actually _wants_ this, that he purposefully sought the general out in lieu of medical. Not that Hux has ever spent much time thinking about what _Ren_ wants, but surely he cares more about personal glories and his own abstruse, mystical enlightenment rather than enjoying something as trivial as a _bath_. It’s hard for Hux to wrap his mind around why Ren would ever want _comfort_ , especially comfort at the hands of his detested rival.

Despite his doubts Hux continues to massage the shampoo into Ren’s hair, lathering up his locks until they feel silky between his fingers. It actually is rather nice to touch, and Hux lingers perhaps a little longer than necessary, combing out the tangles with a gentleness that surprises him.

He splashes more water on Ren’s head, helping it thread through his hair until it lays smoothly plastered against his neck and scalp. Hux cradles the back of his head and rinses the suds out carefully, keeping them out of Ren’s eyes and the wounds on his face. It almost reminds him of a scene out of vintage holodramas as Ren glances up at him, lips parted slightly. The tinge on his cheek is definitely blush.

“Sit up.” Hux leans away, dipping his hands in the water to clean the off the shampoo. He casts a glance over the part of Ren’s body he can see, and decides he’s clean enough. Next time, he should just douse Ren with a hose rather than go through all this trouble. Perhaps then he’ll learn how to properly wash himself.

Hux helps Ren rise, quickly offering him a towel as he drains the tub, watching the now dirtied water spiral away. He has him sit once more, slowly dripping dry, as Hux looks for something to properly mend his wounds.

He only has a package of bacta strips in the refresher cabinet, meant for smaller scrapes and lacerations. Thankfully, despite the heavy stains on his tunic, it doesn’t seem like many of Ren’s wounds and abrasions are all that deep. One long one across his upper back is Hux’s main concern, and he rips the strips into smaller pieces, laying them end-on-end to cover it all. They’re waterproof, so they stick easily even against Ren’s damp skin. Although they’re not the higher-grade material carried by medics, they’ll do the job, hopefully bring Ren back to full strength by the time he has to leave on another mission—whenever that may be.

“You could have gone to the medbay,” Hux murmurs as he flattens the last, small strip of bacta against the wound on Ren’s temple, “why come all the way here? They could’ve fixed you up in moments.”

He trails his fingers down the side of Ren’s face, thumb gently rubbing the corner of his mouth, unsure if he’s looking for an answer. He’s about to pull his hand away when Ren speaks up, and what he says strikes Hux right in the chest.

“I wanted it to be you.”

Hux’s heart beats quicker, and he immediately scolds it. _Why_? Just because Ren says he _wants_ him? What could that possible mean, coming from the cruel, duplicitous Force-user he knows him to be? And if he’s telling truth, where had such trust come from? Hux could very well have shoved Ren’s head beneath the water, or slit his throat with a quick pass of his vibroblade, soaking the porcelain tub red with blood. Hux’s cunning isn’t exactly a well-kept secret. Sure Ren knows about it. Surely he would do the same to Hux if he were given a chance to strike in such a state of vulnerability.

“You fool,” he says, lacking much venom, “what could I possibly give you the medbay cannot?”

Ren raises his head, and Hux finds himself momentarily entranced in their depths. So close, and without the blood and muck clouding him up, Ren truly is a striking young man. A _human_ , not one of Snoke’s mindless warrior guards, nor one of Hux’s own engineered projects. Made of bone and supple muscle and surprisingly soft skin that he’s already been lucky enough to touch. Craving some kind of familiarity, despite the violent, volatile world he must cut his way through. Even if it has to come from a man who would just as easily strike him down as clean his wounds.  

“Here I was, thinking I could rinse you down and send you on your way,” Hux sighs, lightly patting Ren’s cheek before rising to his feet. “Come then. I need something to drink after all this.” He’s thinking tea, but realizes it sounds like he’s talking about alcohol which, on second thought, isn’t the worst idea. Perhaps Ren will appreciate a shot or two after the day he’s presumably had.  

Hux casts his eye over the lump of soiled black clothes on the floor, then the towel clenched tightly about Ren’s hips as he rises to his feet.

But _after_ Hux acquires some fresh clothes for him. Hopefully, there’s something in his wardrobe that might fit.

**Author's Note:**

> Now I've done both Hux bathing Kylo and Kylo bathing Hux. What can I say! I find this idea very interesting to explore. 
> 
> Hit me up on [Tumblr](http://thethespacecoyote.tumblr.com) and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/heir_of_breath7/).


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